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Sex with Yamato is overwhelming.

Sai's legs are secure around Yamato's hips, steadying them both, making the connection between them effortless.  Yamato is panting softly, leaning on one elbow in such a way that his hand is still free to pin Sai's beside his head, clasping with interlaced fingers.  Yamato's other hand remains at Sai's hip, gripping warmly as he draws back; his voice rises up into a soft groan as he presses in again and Sai's breath catches at the resultant surge-and-ebb of pleasure.  He flexes up with his hips and tightens down with his calves, thighs as open as he can get them, body clutching at Yamato's length when it retreats and welcoming when it returns; his free hand is splayed around the ANBU tattoo on Yamato's bicep, gripping fiercely, and his head is reeling.

Sex with Yamato is overwhelming, and Sai does not know how to process it all correctly.

Yamato's lips graze the base of his throat and Sai's arousal spikes hot in his belly even as his thoughts spiral into dizzy observations about instinct and submission, scrambling to understand the urges coursing through him while Yamato thrusts unhurriedly into him again and again.  Baring one's throat is a primal gesture of surrender, something left over from the days when humans and animals were much the same, and Sai finds it surprisingly appropriate that such a gesture so frequently occurs during sex.  It implies a level of vulnerability and trust that he would have thought difficult to achieve.  Sex leaves one unguarded and distracted, one of many reasons it's so often used as a tool for assassination; to engage with someone for pleasure is to trust them not to render death or harm in the process and Sai finds the simple act of offering the throat a tidy symbol for that trust. 

He is certain that 'He will not kill me' is not the sort of thought that ordinary people associate with sexual arousal, but it is the thought that has been lodged in his mind since sex with Yamato first occurred to him, the thought that allows him to return to Yamato's bed time and again, unfettered and open and willingly defenseless.

Sex with Yamato is overwhelming, and Sai does not know how to process it all correctly, but he trusts Yamato.

Yamato's hand sweeps up along his side, from hip to shoulder, folding his arm in against Yamato's chest on the way. Sai can feel the rapid beat of Yamato's heart beneath his palm, presses into it while Yamato's fingers splay over his shoulder and move up toward his face, curve along his jaw and behind his ear, behind his neck.  Yamato's hand is broad, strong, Sai's neck slender and relatively delicate by comparison; he is very aware of how easily such a grip could be used to snap his vertebrae but Yamato's touch could not be more careful.  Gentle pressure tilts Sai's chin up and Yamato's mouth comes down soft and open over Sai's, a brush and slide of lips, the warm wet curl of tongue, and Sai doesn't know how to articulate the way these kisses make him feel but he wants to feel it again and again and again.

"Sai," Yamato breathes, his voice warm and weighty and urgent—impassioned, Sai's mind supplies; the tone adds all manner of nuanced pleading to the name (his name), Let me and Trust me and Please and I want and Sai, ever obedient, answers Yes, yes, yes, YES with the arch of his back, the press of clenched fingers and the trembling strain of his open thighs.

Sex with Yamato is overwhelming, and Sai does not know how to process it all correctly, but he trusts Yamato to guide him.

Yamato is warm and heavy atop him, pinning him down, moving in slow even rhythm deep inside him; Yamato's hand is clasping his, pressing it into the bedclothes, the other buried in the hair at the crown of his head, tugging softly, and Sai surrenders.

He does it willfully, wantonly, arches his head back at Yamato's gentle direction and bares his throat, mouth open and working without sound as Yamato's lips press open and moist to his skin, linger over his skittering pulse, brush soft patterns from chin to collarbone and one ear to the other.  Sensations course through him, heat and coiled tension and soft electricity running bright and hot through his veins, emotions colliding in their wake, and Sai can allow himself to be swept under and lost in the tide of feeling and pleasure, because it is Yamato.

Sex with Yamato is overwhelming, and Sai does not know how to process it all correctly, but he trusts Yamato to guide him.

And that is the only fact which matters.